Author's Note: This story is what I hope to be my "canon" for my character made for the Harry Potter world, Rebecca Felan. The first few chapters will be up rather quickly as I've been working on this for a long time, but the latter chapters will take more time as I'm still working on them/want to make them as perfect as possible. So don't panic.

I intend to make no money from this, nor do I want to, really. This is mostly for my own amusement. Anything you see in this chapter that looks familiar was written by J.K. Rowling in Harry Potter and the Socerer's Stone. This is one of the few chapters that will have anything from the books in them besides very important scenes, because I wanted to make this story my own this time around and what I really want to have happened had Rebecca actually been there during this time period. I hope all of you enjoy.

Chapter One: First Year

The Visit, March 1991

It had begun early this morning, when she had first gotten up. Rebecca Felan, recently turned eleven-year-old, had gotten out of bed this morning and looked out her window to see an owl sitting on her sill. Attached to his leg had been a letter, one addressed to her. She had read it, taking in what it meant, and showed it to her mother. She'd been hoping for some sort of recognition, for some sort of happiness pointed in her general direction, but her mother had merely gone very quiet and called her father home from work. Her mother had sent her back up to her room.

Sitting in her room, Rebecca had plenty of time to think. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her chin rested on her hands, which were on top of her knees. Her parents had said they needed to sort out a few things. She'd looked out her window a couple of times, and seen quite a few owls perched outside their home, waiting patiently, letters gripped tightly between their talons or beaks. She knew the letters were for her. Once, her father had gone out to frighten the birds away, but they had merely risen up into the air, then fluttered back down to earth in a different spot in their front yard. Rebecca laughed at his stupidity.

Another hour passed, and Rebecca was staring out her window when she saw an older woman approach the end of her street corner. Growing interested, Rebecca stood and went closer to the window to observe the woman. She seemed to be looking for something, then spotted all of the owls and smiled before coming closer to them. With a wave of her hand, one flew to her and landed on her arm, surrendering the letter to her before flying away. The rest followed. It was one of the most amazing things Rebecca had ever seen anyone do. She saw the woman was dressed in strange attire: long, flowing green robes, and a large, green hat that almost looked like the stereotypical witch hat she'd seen in old movies. The woman had wrinkles on her face, Rebecca could see as she got closer, and she had a kindly look about her, as though she could be a grandmother. The woman stopped in front of Rebecca's house, then went for the front door. Rebecca ran for the door to her room and went down the stairs two at a time to meet her at the front step.

Her father and mother got there before her, much to her dismay. Rebecca stopped on the fourth step from the bottom, and watched as the woman came into view of the opening door. She, who was clearly a witch, Rebecca decided, smiled at her parents.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Felan," she said in an accented, yet very clear voice. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I'm here to speak with you about your daughter."

"We know what you are, and we don't want any of it," Roger said harshly, about ready to slam the door in Professor McGonagall's face.

She held up her hand. "I want only a word, if you please," McGonagall said calmly. "If you wouldn't mind too much, I would prefer if we spoke indoors."

Roger considered the woman for a long time, then finally stepped aside to allow her entrance.

"Thank you," McGonagall said, stepping inside. She spotted Rebecca almost immediately. "And you must be Rebecca," she said, smiling up at the girl.

Rebecca nodded.

"Well, come here, dear, this concerns you as well," the professor said, motioning for Rebecca to come down the stairs.

Rebecca approached her, unsure, yet excited all at once. She could feel her hands beginning to shake slightly, and her mind was racing with all sorts of questions. McGonagall turned back to her parents.

"Where would be the best place to speak?" she asked the Felans.

"In the kitchen," Emily, Rebecca's mother, said, trying her best to be polite.

McGonagall nodded, then followed husband and wife to the kitchen, Rebecca scurrying along after them, eager to learn what this witch was doing at her home. McGonagall quickly made herself at home, taking the nearest seat, placing her hat on the table beside her. Nicholas, Rebecca's brother, who was already in the room and pouring himself a glass of water, stared at the intruder, nearly spilling his drink on the counter. Fortunately, he caught it just in time.

"What's the meaning of you coming here like this?" Roger asked, wanting her to leave as quickly as possible.

"We've sent a number of letters just today to your daughter, Mr. Felan," McGonagall said. "But, I realized that since you are not of magical blood, you might not have understood the letter completely. So, the Headmaster decided to send me here to talk with you, in person, upon this matter."

"I already answered you at the door, we don't want any part of your world," Roger said angrily.

"That may be the case for you, Mr. Felan," said McGonagall, her lips growing into a straight line and her voice becoming very serious, "but it is the decision of your daughter's, not yours, I'm rather happy to say."

She looked to Rebecca, who stood silently in the doorway, listening in on the conversation.

"Did you look at the letter we sent you, Rebecca?" the witch asked.

"Yes."

"Do you understand what it is telling you?"

Rebecca nodded. "That I'm a witch."

"Yes," McGonagall said, nodding back. "Yes, you are." She paused, looking the girl over.

It is as though I'm staring at a younger version of Lily Evans, Minerva thought absently. The girl was her spitting image from her bold, green eyes to her fiery red hair and her pale complexion. Little things, though, her face shape, her height (slightly bigger than most girls her own age), and her nearly stick-thinness, were what set off the differences. The shape of her eyes and her nose she got from her father, the man who might be the reason for the girl's thinness, Minerva thought. Other than her general body type and complexion, Rebecca did not resemble her mother at all. The same went for her father. Both parents were of darker stock, so to speak, with brown eyes, the father having light brown hair and the mother having black hair. The boy, even, her brother it appeared, took after his parents. But not Rebecca. Perhaps it was her magic that was setting off her differentness.

"Would you like to learn about our world?" Minerva asked the girl quietly. "Would you enjoy learning about magic at our school, where there would be hundreds of other students like you?"

Rebecca considered the sudden offer, taken aback at what she was faced with. She could feel the eyes of her parents and brother upon her. Her father glared at her, almost daring her to say yes. Her mother had a look of compassion mixed with fear for the unknown. Her brother was simply shocked; his little sister had never received this much attention over anything, let alone run the risk of disownment.

"What would I do there?" she asked, stepping closer to the witch.

"You would learn how to harness your power, to use it to your advantage," Minerva explained. "You would learn about witches and wizards of the past, and what has happened in the wizarding world, and how we get along with muggles— that's non-magical people."

"Rebecca, I will not have you going to any school like this!" her father said loudly, ripping the girl's attention from the witch back to him.

Emily sat in the corner of the kitchen, staring at her husband in disbelief. All of this had taken her by surprise. She had never thought Rebecca would have been magical, despite the lineage she was irrevocably bred from, at least on her side. Did Roger have magical blood running through his veins, too, and just not know it? she wondered.

"It's a conspiracy against the government and the Queen mother! And I won't have it!" Roger continued, his face turning red in his fury.

"Mr. Felan!" Minerva said, so shocked that she stood. "We have no reason to go against the government of this great country, let alone the Queen. This is a school for those who possess the power of magic, and I will not allow you to stand between this special girl and Hogwarts!"

"If she wants to go!" shouted Roger, his face turning red from anger.

"Yes," said McGonagall, subdued for a moment. She looked back to Rebecca. "Well, child, what is it that you wish to do? Do you want to remain a muggle, or will you go to Hogwarts?"

Silence filled the entire house; it seemed not even the ceiling fan dared to make a sound. Rebecca thought, weighting the situation again in her mind. Going to this school would bring her new experiences as well as get her away from her family, whom she was sure wouldn't miss her very much anyway. Then again, if she did go, it was likely her family would not wish to speak with her, and she would be forced to create a new life elsewhere in England— a daunting aspect of the choice for one so young.

She bit her bottom lip, a habit she had developed that annoyed her parents. In fact, she thought, nearly everything she did annoyed her parents, so how would this be any different? She wasn't particularly close to either of them or her brother, and she had only a few friends at school, none of them as good as they claimed to be. It seemed the only right thing to do was to press the "restart" button for her life, whereas before there had been none. Now that she had the chance to do it, what was she waiting for?

"Hogwarts sounds great," she told McGonagall with a smile.

Her father's face turned a bright red, and he stormed from the room; Rebecca could track his movement with the sound of his thundering footsteps through the house. McGonagall grinned down at her.

"Very good," she said, holding the letter to her. "I'll be back for you on August the thirty-first, to help you gather you supplies."

Rebecca's grin only grew wider as she took the new sealed envelope from McGonagall. "Thank you," she said. "I'll show you the door… professor."

The Journey to Hogwarts, September 1991

After Tom the barkeep, who McGonagall had left her entrusted to, had explained how to work the barrier, he left, wishing Rebecca good luck at school. She bit her bottom lip, looking around nervously. She was soon approaching the pillar quickly, and she did one final sweep of her surroundings before taking the plunge and pushing through the barrier.

The noise surrounded her as soon as she realized she was on the other side. Looking up, Rebecca gasped at the train she saw before her. It was scarlet, with black edgings around it, but its color was magnificent. The platform was crowded, as she had suspected, with hooting owls and purring cats slinking their way through people's legs, though some were in cages being held by their owners. She saw a number of other students placing their luggage in compartments of their choice on the train. She followed suit, finding one near the back that was empty, and setting her things down. Rebecca sat quietly, waiting for the train to begin its journey. She began to think about the books she had read the previous night, when she hadn't been able to sleep. McGonagall had helped her turn her muggle money her mother had inexplicably given her into wizarding gold and had then helped her purchase her things, among them her wand and textbook. Her wand she had looked at for a long time, remembering what Ollivander had told her after he had measured her.

"This is made from an old, old alder tree, with the heartstring of an even older dragon serving as its core… That dragon's heartstring you have there was a very powerful species, nearly as power as he was old. He was a Hungarian Horntail, a very large and terrifying creature when you angered it. I sense the same in you: placid when left alone, with a fiery temper ready to spring forth when needed." He had paused, then, considering her for a long, silent moment. Rebecca became uncomfortable with his stare, but felt that he was seeing something in her that he recognized. She finally cleared her throat, and that seemed to bring him from his thoughts. "For a wand such as that, it will cost you no less than eight galleons," he had said, winking. "That's a special price for you, my dear; I expect great things from you."

"Excuse me?" said a young boy's voice, startling Rebecca so she jumped a little.

Rebecca glanced up to see who the voice belonged to. It was a boy who looked to be her age, with dark-colored, messy hair, green eyes hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses, and skinny as a rail. His hands clutched a trolley, on which a cage (with a huge snowy owl sitting patiently) and the boy's trunk were placed carefully.

"Could you help me lift this up?" the boy continued, motioning to his trunk. "There don't seem to be any other compartments."

"Sure," said Rebecca, offering the boy the only small grin she could muster up. She stood and went to the opening of the compartment, holding out her hands. The boy handed her the cage with the owl inside it, and Rebecca took it gingerly, placing the beautiful bird on the floor. She turned back to see the boy trying to lift the trunk by himself.

"Don't— you'll hurt yourself!" she said harshly, jumping from the compartment to the ground smoothly.

She picked up one end, and the boy followed her lead by picking up the other end. They both tried to lift the trunk, but even their combined strengths were not enough. Rebecca grunted, feeling her arm straining against the heaviness of the trunk before she finally gave up, letting go of the handle.

"Want a hand?" a red-haired boy, older than both she and the dark-haired boy, asked kindly, approaching them.

"Yes, please," said the dark-haired boy.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!" the redhead cried.

Another red-haired boy came obediently to his brother's call. Rebecca did a double-take. They were twins! She took a step back, going back up into the compartment to get out of the three boys' way. With the twins' help, the dark-haired boy managed to get his trunk into the compartment with his owl, Rebecca, and her own things.

"Thanks," said the dark-haired boy, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

Rebecca's own sharp vision caught the tiny scar on his forehead, but said nothing, sitting quietly in her seat near the corner of the compartment.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at the other boy's lightening scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you—?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to the boy Rebecca was now able to identify as Harry Potter.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The twins gawked at him, and Rebecca saw Harry turn red. She felt sorry for the boy, but continued to say nothing. A voice came floating through in the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum."

With a last look at Harry, the twins jumped off the train.

Rebecca watched as Harry sat next to the open window, where he peered out of it, as if watching something. She watched him for a moment before speaking up.

"I'm Rebecca Felan," she said politely, standing and going to shake his hand.

It was Harry's turn to be startled.

"Oh!" he said, turning to face her. "Right, sorry." He stuck out his hand and shook hers. "I'm— well, you probably already know." His voice sounded defeated.

"I just read about you last night," she admitted, sitting opposite to him in the compartment. "I'm amazed I even remembered your name— I'm usually horrible with them."

"You read about me?" Harry asked incredulously.

Rebecca nodded. "I don't know much about the wizarding world," she said. "I'm a muggle born."

Harry nodded in understanding. "I've been living with my uncle, aunt, and cousin for most of my life… They're muggles, too." He scoffed suddenly. "Your family was probably a bit nicer to you, at least."

"Not really," Rebecca said, surprised she was confessing so much to him after having just met him. They seemed to both be outcasts put in a difficult situation, so she supposed that was why. "They worshipped my older brother. They don't like that I'm a witch."

Harry smirked. "My uncle and aunt hate me," he said, folding and unfolding his hands in a nervous fashion. "They especially don't like knowing that I'm magical, like my parents."

"I'm sorry about them," Rebecca said abruptly. "I don't quite understand the whole situation, but I'm still sorry."

Harry nodded, seeming unable to find anything to respond with. The train began moving, and he peered out the window again.

A few minutes of silence passed over Harry and Rebecca, until the compartment door slid open to reveal a young redheaded boy who looked remarkably like the older twins that had helped Harry.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing to the seat near Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Rebecca noticed that the redhead had a black mark on his nose. She wondered if she should mention it.

"Hey, Ron."

Rebecca looked to the open compartment door to see the twins standing there.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train— Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled the younger redhead- Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

Both turned to leave, then noticed (as if for the first time) Rebecca sitting there.

"Don't think we know you," said one of the twins curiously.

"I'm Rebecca," she muttered.

"Pleasure," said both twins, then turned to leave, shutting the compartment door behind them.

"Bye," said Harry and Ron together.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh— well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got—you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead. Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightening scar. Ron stared. Rebecca blinked, wondering exactly why Harry would want to show anyone. Probably just to get them off his back, she thought. She was considering Ron's true intentions about coming into the compartment.

"So that's where You-Know-Who—?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well— I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat down and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry. Rebecca noted that he seemed generally interested in Ron.

"Er— yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron, trying to change the subject. "What are they like?"

"Horrible— well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. I wish I had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. He looked gloomy as he said this. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left— Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first."

"I know how you feel," Rebecca said reflexively. "I've got an older brother, Nicholas. He's a right prat, though. My parents love him because he does everything right, like sports and good marks, lots of friends, girlfriends… And not becoming magical," she added under her breath.

"Then you know what I'm talking about," said Ron, not hearing the last part. "You never get anything new, either, with five brothers," he continued, looking back to Harry. "I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff— I mean I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He went back to staring out the windows. Rebecca didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford another pet.

"I can understand," she told him. "I always get Nichloas' old school things." She made a face. "And he never took care of any of his things, not even pets— they all ran away eventually.

"I've never had any money in my life until a month ago," Harry added, also trying to cheer Ron up. He began telling both he and Rebecca everything, all about wearing Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to help Ron substantially.

"…and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort— "

Ron gasped. Rebecca looked at him confusedly.

"What?" said Harry, surprised.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you of all people—"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn… I bet," he added, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be," said Rebecca before Ron could even open his mouth. "At least you've got wizarding blood in your family." She scoffed. "All I have are muggle parents and a brother who could care less."

"There's loads of people who come from Muggle families," added Ron, "and they learn quick."

Rebecca glanced out the window, noticing that there were an abnormal number of cows and sheep in seemingly endless fields of grass. They were well out of London now.

The three continued to talk until about half past twelve when a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again, muttering that he'd brought sandwiches. Rebecca had a little bit of spending money left over from her Diagon Alley shopping trip with Professor McGonagall, but she decided it would be best to save it. She politely shook her head and said, "No, thanks." Harry went out into the corridor.

Rebecca saw from around Harry that the cart carried all sorts of candy she had never seen before. She was able to read some names, like "Chocolate Frogs," "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," and "Cauldron Cakes." The chocolate was not something she wanted—she hated chocolate—but everything else looked positively inviting. She saw Harry take a little bit of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron and Rebecca stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?" Ron asked, no inflection in his voice.

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bit out of a pumpkin-shaped pastry.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and mumbled, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up the strange pastry. "Go on-"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, holding the thing out to him. "You too, Rebecca," he added, giving her one as well.

"What is it?" she asked, taking the pastry and looking it over curiously.

"It's a pumpkin pasty," Ron explained through a full mouth. "Try it."

Rebecca took a small bite from the pasty, chewing it thoughtfully. She smiled, then began eating the rest of it, enjoying every bit. She liked the new, albeit strange, food.

The three began eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of the things labeled "Chocolate Frogs". "They're not really frogs, are they?"

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know—Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect—famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't gotten Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. Rebecca peered over his shoulder, and saw a man's face looking back up at her. He wore half-moon spectacles, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore. She recognized the curious name as the Headmaster McGonagall had mentioned to her.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. He looked to Rebecca. "You have, haven't you?" he asked her. She nodded, and he turned back to Harry. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa—thanks—"

Harry turned over his card, and Rebecca read from next to him:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Harry turned the card back over, and both to his and Rebecca's astonishment, the man had vanished.

"He's gone!" Harry cried.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her… do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed.

Rebecca shook her head; Ron did the same. "Weird!"

Harry stared at his Dumbledore card, but Ron seemed more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the old man. Harry continued to open the pile of Chocolate Frogs, and Rebecca helped Ron eat the rest them almost as quickly as Harry could open them.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry, who was beginning to open a bag labeled Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor—you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a bogey-flavored one once."

Rebecca made a face as Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh—see? Sprouts."

The three had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Rebecca got chocolate, salt, and strawberry before getting one that put her off for good: ear wax. She grimaced, and the boys laughed, until Harry nibbled on one that tasted of pepper. Then it was her turn to snicker.

When Rebecca looked out the window next, she saw that the fields that had been flying past the train had now turned to woods and dark, green hills.

There was a knock on the compartment door and a round-faced boy came in. He looked tearful, and Rebecca immediately felt sorry for him.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing in Ron's lap.

"I think he's cute," Rebecca said. She didn't like how Ron continued to put his own pet down. Both boys looked at her. "In that weird sort of way…"

Ron shook his head. "He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," he said in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

She watched as Ron rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway—"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Rebecca noted that she had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you going to do magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down across from Ron, next to Rebecca. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er— all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daises, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard— I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough— I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, then at Rebecca. Both had stunned looks on their faces, and Rebecca was relieved by both boys' similar expressions to hers. Apparently, they hadn't learned all their textbooks by heart, either.

"Rebecca Felan," she said, nodding to the girl.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course— I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, did you know, I'd have found everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her. Rebecca shook her head, trying to rid her ears from the sound of the girl's bossy voice.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell— George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. His face suddenly drooped with gloom. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"So?" asked Rebecca. "That doesn't mean all Slytherins are bad, does it?" She looked to Ron; he stared back at her as if she were crazy.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to change the subject quickly. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose either of you get that with the Muggles— someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry and Rebecca stared at him. She had only been there the day before. Since when had this happened?

"Really? What happened to them?" asked Harry.

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Rebecca listened carefully. All this talk of Dark wizards and this You-Know-Who person was driving her crazy. Harry knew this wizard's name, but everyone was too afraid to even hear it mentioned. She would have to ask about all of this later.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked them both eagerly.

"Er— I don't know any," Harry confessed.

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders, not knowing at all what Ron was talking about.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you both wait, it's the best game in the world—" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was taking Harry and Rebecca through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered. Two of them were much larger than the third, who was a ghastly pale boy. Despite the two larger boys' size, they all looked about Rebecca's age.

"Is it true?" asked the pale boy. "They're all saying down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry.

The two larger boys were intimidating, standing on either side of the pale boy like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carefully, noticing that Harry was looking at them. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which was hiding a snigger as far as Rebecca was concerned. She didn't move as Draco Malfoy looked at Ron.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared on his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up. Rebecca grabbed for both of their wrists, but the boys fought with her.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Stop," Rebecca hissed at him.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Get out," Rebecca told him, standing between the three boys and Harry and Ron.

"We don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron— Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle—Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, and all three of them disappeared at once. A second later, Hermione Granger came in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No— I don't believe it— he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry explained to them about his meeting with Malfoy in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right, but I don't suppose you'll want to change in here with them, do you?" Hermione asked Rebecca. Rebecca shook her head. "Follow me, then, you can change in the compartment across the way." She went to the door, Rebecca following close behind after she had retrieved her robes. Before they left, Hermione looked to Ron. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Rebecca followed Hermione across the hall and down a few doors before she opened an empty compartment.

"There were some people in here before, but they all left," Hermione explained quickly. "I'll watch the door while you change inside."

"Thank you," Rebecca said with a meek smile before stepping inside the compartment and closing the door behind her.

A few moments passed, then a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts within five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Rebecca paused only for a moment, a wave of fear sweeping over her. She pulled on her new skirt, shaking her head at how silly she was being. Soon she was dressed and knocked on the door, signaling Hermione to open it.

"Come on!" Hermione said excitedly. "Everyone's going to the front, Rebecca, let's go!" She took the red head's hand in hers and pulled her forward. They were soon stopped by the many other students trying to get off the train at once. The train soon slowed down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Rebecca took in a breath, and noticed the frigid air around her. She loved it immediately. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and a booming voice thundered over all:

"C'mon follow me— any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

"That is possibly the largest man I've ever seen," Rebecca heard Hermione say under her breath. She nodded in agreement, unable to take her eyes from the man.

He stood at least seven feet tall, and was by her estimation five feet wide at the shoulders. He had long, black hair that rested at his shoulders in a tangled mess, and a beard that blended in with the hair already around his shoulders. Rebecca wasn't frightened of him, just intrigued. She and Hermione soon caught up with Harry and Ron, who were near the large man.

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Rebecca thought there had to be trees around them. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the large man, whom Harry said was named Hagrid, called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" Even Rebecca couldn't help herself.

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Rebecca made for a boat in the front, but saw that Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were already aboard another. She bit her lower lip as three other students unknown to her entered her boat and sat around her.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then—FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. Rebecca felt overwhelmed by the sight, but caught the gasp in her throat before she allowed it to escape.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. Rebecca managed to catch up to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then the clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto a smooth, damp grass right in the shadows of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The Sorting, September 1991

"Felan, Rebecca!" called Professor McGonagall.

Rebecca stopped. How had they completely skipped over three letters of the alphabet? She took a breath in and bit her lower lip a little more gingerly this time. She stepped up to the stool, McGonagall looking kindly at her over the parchment. Rebecca felt all the eyes in the entire room on her, including the ones at the staff table. The man directly in the middle with the long, white hair and beard looked indifferently, yet interestedly, over his half-moon spectacles at her as she approached the bench. She recognized him from the card; it was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

Finally, Rebecca picked up the hat, placed it on her head, and sat down on the stool.

"You don't seem familiar at all," said a tiny voice in her ear. "You're a muggle born, aren't you? Hmm, no matter…"

All was quiet for but a moment. Rebecca was stunned that the hat was speaking to her so frankly.

"You know nothing, but you have an astounding will, and yearning, to learn. Ravenclaw would be good for that. Ah, but a kindness is within you—a justness—qualities of Hufflepuff. And there is a deeply set braveness about you when the time arises—a good solid Gryffindor quality. But I see what prevails the most in you is the wanting to prove yourself, to be noticed, to be everything and more. Well, if you're as cunning as you are smart, you'll do well in SLYTHERIN!"

There was no cheers from the Slytherin table as Rebecca stood timidly, placing the hat back on the stool. She stared wide-eyed at Professor McGonagall, who looked blankly at her for many long, tense and quiet moments.

"Go take a seat, dear," the older witch finally said.

Rebecca nodded, keeping her head cast downward as she walked to the center table. She sat beside Millicent, who had been the first and only Slytherin up until the hat had called out the house name. The large girl and all the other Slytherins stared at her as if she were a disease. Rebecca stared hard at the golden plate before her, wondering how she had ended up here. She could tell she did not belong at all.

She couldn't focus on much of the Sorting until a familiar name arose.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

She watched as the pale, blonde boy sauntered up to the stool. The hat wasn't on his head fully when the thing shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table let out a cheer as Malfoy joined his friends Crabbe and Goyle at the table. He then turned his sights on Rebecca.

"Well, well," he said, placing his hands on his hips, a smirk plastered on his face, "looks like we've got a Mudblood in our midst."

The entire table seemed to turn at once to glare at Rebecca. She didn't know what a Mudblood was, but she could tell from Malfoy's tone that it had a negative meaning to it.

"Tell me, how did you fool the Hat into putting you into this house?" Malfoy continued, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling behind him. "Don't you want to be with your friends Potter and Weasley?"

She glanced up at him; he was still smirking. She hated this boy even more than she had on the train. She felt the anger welling up inside of her, and her hands began to grip the case so hard, she had to let go for fear of smashing it and hurting her pet. Instead, she gripped the side of the table.

"Sit down," a hoarse voice whispered.

Rebecca looked over her shoulder to see the bloody ghost who had been watching her before come up behind Malfoy. The boy followed orders, taking a seat away from Rebecca. The ghost nodded at her, then floated down to the other side of the table, where he stopped near Malfoy.

"The Bloody Baron likes her, at least," she heard a boy across and down a few seats murmur. She looked up at him. He had slightly uneven teeth, short, black hair, and dark brown eyes and was watching her guardedly. He had almost the same gravelly voice that the ghost—the Bloody Baron—had, but with a softer touch. He was older, definitely, but how much she didn't know. She hoped that he would be kind, or at least civil to her, but this house was proving to be anything but those traits.

"Potter, Harry!"

She looked up, hearing a chuckle from Malfoy as she did so. Harry stepped forward, whispers breaking out all over the hall. He sat down on the stool and put the hat on, which came over his eyes. There was a long pause. Rebecca crossed her fingers under the table, hoping that he would not get placed in this horrible house.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat finally.

Harry took off the hat and walked shakily to the Gryffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer yet, Rebecca noticed, and she was silently ecstatic for him.

She tried to pay attention to the rest of the sorting in an attempt to ignore the continuing glares she was getting from her own house. She also noticed one of the professors in particular watching her. He had black, greasy hair and a long nose, and black eyes. He was the first person Rebecca had seen with black eyes. He was watching her the way the Bloody Baron had been earlier, as if considering her. Rebecca pulled her gaze away as "Weasley, Ron" was called.

Again, she crossed her fingers. A second after Ron put on the hat, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Ron went to take his place next to Harry.

The last person on the list was "Zabini, Blaise" who was made a Slytherin. He came and sat down beside the last person called, Pansy Parkinson. Rebecca sighed as McGonagall rolled up her parchment and took the Sorting Hat away. She wanted the feast to be over with, but didn't at the same time, since it would mean going back to the dorms with these people who very obviously didn't like her at all.

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered, except for the Slytherin table, who did what Rebecca knew to be a golf clap.

"Bloody tart," she heard Malfoy grumble to the others.

Looking down, Rebecca saw that the plates and bowls in front of her that had been empty were now full to the brim with delicious-smelling food. Her goblet was filled with an orange liquid. She took a sip; it tasted of pumpkin, and it was very good. She reached for the nearest plate of boiled potatoes, but had it snatched away from her by quicker hands. She went quickly for the roast chicken that was close by, putting some on her plate before placing it back on the table.

She went on in this manner for about ten minutes, until she was full. The rest of her house was eating and talking and sounding very happy to be there. Rebecca looked at her empty plate, unwilling to speak with anyone. She heard a grunt behind her, and turned to stare straight into the Bloody Baron's transparent, silvery eyes. She was too stunned to say anything.

"The Sorting Hat placed you here for a reason, muggleborn," he whispered gruffly. "Now act like it."

Rebecca felt her eyebrows meet and crease in the middle of her forehead.

"My name is Rebecca, and I would appreciate it if you called me that," she told him.

The Baron stared at her, and she met his gaze until his lips turned slightly in a tiny smile. He chuckled; it sounded like falling boulders to her.

"You've got it," said the Baron, "now show them." He pointed down the table at the other Slytherins.

Rebecca looked down the table at the others. She didn't know what to say to them. She felt that she couldn't say anything to them, not yet at least. She was too naïve; she knew nothing of the wizarding world—at least, nothing compared to what they knew. Then it hit her: she needed to find the library…

Snape and Dumbledore speak, November 1991

Rebecca licked her lips and took in a breath before she answered. "Asphodel and wormwood make a potion called the Draught of the Living Death, sir. It's a very powerful sleeping potion, and, as the name suggests, the person who takes the potion will appear as though they are dead." She paused and glanced at him. "A bezoar is a stone that is taken from the stomach of a goat." She glanced at Harry. "It can save you from most poisons. And what I meant just a few moments ago," she added, her eyes flicking back to Professor Snape, "is that monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant." She paused. "But it also goes by the name of aconite."

Albus chuckled as he removed himself from his Pensieve. Severus, as usual, had a stony expression.

"There is no doubt of her intelligence, Severus," Albus said, motioning for the man to take back his memories. "I am glad that you have shown me your interactions with her. I've been quite worried by our Miss Felan."

"Yes, she has been a lot to handle," Severus commented. "Especially after that incident in the Great Hall and the troll at Halloween." He was, of course, referring to the incident where Draco Malfoy had placed magical fireworks inside of Miss Felan's schoolbag and charmed it to explode as soon as she entered the Great Hall. Severus had had clean up duty, the two being in his House. Draco had not been pleased with him, as the boy had to be punished.

Albus' eyes twinkled. Severus hated when he did that; it always meant that he was up to something. Suddenly, the Headmaster's expression turned solemn.

"Yes, it was good that she and Messers Potter and Weasley were there to help Miss Granger," he said. "It is a shame, however, that Rebecca cannot seem to make any friends in Slytherin."

Severus scoffed. "Do you think any will wish to with her lineage so apparent?" he asked, meaning it rhetorically.

Albus sighed. "I suppose not," he said, shrugging as he took his seat back in his chair behind his desk. He patted Fawkes' head for a moment before continuing. "Are we certain that she has no magical blood in her family? The Sorting Hat would not place someone who was not at least half-blooded into Slytherin." He looked to the Sorting Hat that sat quietly on top of the shelf.

"Her parents are muggles," Severus said evenly. "Minerva told you as much. Neither set of grandparents appear to be alive, so we cannot refer to them. Her parents also want nothing to do with the magical world, particularly her father, it seems."

When Minerva had described Miss Felan's father to him, Severus had felt a jerking at his memories. Mr. Roger Felan reminded him of his own father in many ways, though he did not appear to have been physically abusing his daughter, just ignoring her to the best of his abilities, especially now while she was away at school.

"Yes," Albus said, sounding defeated. "I was just hoping that there would be some explanation behind the uncanny likeness between Rebecca and Lily Potter."

Severus froze in his seat. Minerva had brought up the subject of Miss Felan's appearance lightly to Severus, wanting to warn him well before the girl was to get to Hogwarts on September the first. Albus spoke of it almost flippantly around Severus. What the old man was getting at, he didn't know. He just knew he didn't like it.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Albus. "Perhaps it is merely a coincidence," he muttered darkly.

"I suppose it will remain a mystery until we are given evidence to the contrary," Albus said.

"Quite."